


Escape from the Green (What We Have Wrought)

by kaijulvl5



Series: Escape from the Green [4]
Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Cowgirl Position, Crying, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Emotions, Escape, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Ezra can tan, Ezra is a little dom, Ezra is good with directions, Ezra talks a lot, F/M, Fear, Feelings, Fictional Religion & Theology, Fluff, Guns, Hiking, Hurt, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Penis In Vagina Sex, Play Fighting, Religion, Religious Cults, Religious Fanaticism, Self-Defense, Semi-Public Sex, Some comfort, Suspension Of Disbelief, Swearing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, epilogue included, non-fatal injury of a child, please, porn at the end, space travel, threatened forced pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijulvl5/pseuds/kaijulvl5
Summary: Farra and Ezra make it back to the moon and find the Queen's Lair, but bad things lurk in the woods. Lots of hiking in the dark, a kidnapping and an injury with eventual recovery, fluff, and smut. Please bring your best disbelief suspenders...
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Escape from the Green [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014753
Kudos: 6





	Escape from the Green (What We Have Wrought)

The remaining cycles were peaceful and, if they were boring, at least they were comfortable. The camaraderie seemed forced to Farra, but she kept that to herself. They got along, and that was what mattered. Ezra would turn on the Elwood once in a while, but didn’t try to revisit the intimacy from before. They played through some of the same old games and Farra built houses of cards when the thrusters were quiet. 

In a moment of weakness, she made the mistake of asking what Puggart’s Bench was like at the start of the rush. Ezra had put up his feet, laced his fingers behind his head and obliged her with an hours long history lesson. “It was an amazing, unspoiled planet with the smallest of frontier outposts. Much like the beauty of Bakhroma Green, but less trees, obviously. Now both places have been plundered in their own ways; torn asunder by humanity. If the Green were more hospitable, I have no doubt it would be left a true husk, as well...” 

Now they were orbiting Bakhroma Green and preparing for the descent. At this distance, the shuttle’s sensors weren’t advanced enough to pick up individual life signs amid all the living things on the moon. There were rudimentary motion detectors that would pick up movement within about a meter from the pod when they landed, but any other reconnaissance would have to be performed the old fashioned way: through covert observation. That meant it was essential to get to the surface unnoticed. Ezra had done the calculations and if they maneuvered the drop pod correctly, the flare would be minimized upon entry. The position of the early morning sun would also help by obscuring their downward trajectory with its corona. 

The pod was loaded and they had confirmed that everything was in place. All that was left was to board and drop. Farra tied her hair back into a ponytail, checked her suit for the final time and climbed through the link hatch into the cramped interior. The helmets and gear were stored at the back and two seats at the front which were mounted to swivel tracks on a central rack. This setup permitted the crew to get in, clasp their harnesses and then slide down the arched rails to face the main control panel. Due to the pod being docked on its side, with the landing gear oriented to the rear of the shuttle, the rig would keep them upright when they made landfall. 

Once settled, they released the docking clamps. A small burst of pressure from the latches pushed the pod away from the enclosure. They floated free for a few moments, clearing the bay. Then Ezra set about the task of propelling them toward the gravity of the moon.

The entire cabin vibrated as it hit the atmosphere, but there wasn’t any feeling of skew or rotation to suggest they were off course. Ezra wrestled with the controls to aim the pod at their landing sight. He looked through the stabilized viewfinder which showed a bright green on faded green relief of the terrain below. Muttering curses under his breath, he hauled on the stick and fired the thrusters to finesse their placement. 

Farra gripped the arms of her seat, her knuckles white. She gritted her teeth, hoping with everything she had that this drop would go smoothly. The last time had been terrifying. She kept expecting to hear a crackle and smell the same foul smoke this time around. Finally, the shuddering evened out. Ezra deployed the braking chutes with an audible “whoompf” and a violent jerk. Moments later a final harsh bump signaled they had settled on the ground. 

“Right on target,” Ezra said and flashed Farra a grin. 

Farra smiled back tightly. The safe landing hadn’t relieved her anxiety. She released her harness and stepped around to the rear of the craft. She took her helmet and swept it over her head, latching it onto her suit. Carelessly, she pulled her pack down from the netting beside the outer hatch. Ezra was unaware of her unsteadiness as he came around from the other side. He lifted his helmet and gear out and watched as Farra shouldered her pack and checked her holster for the third time. The Kinski’s reassuring weight still rested on her hip. 

“Nothing’s movin’ outside. There will be no need to draw down on our way out, little bird,” Ezra said, with a wry look.

Farra frowned at him and said flatly, “I know that.” 

Suddenly, she slammed the flat of her hand against the interior airlock control. Ezra hurried to fit his helmet to his suit. The toxic air wouldn’t come through the hatch if the outer lock was sealed properly, but he didn’t want to take a chance. 

_ It’s getting to her again _ , he thought, sighing as they exited the pod. Farra was behaving unpredictably and that kind of volatility was dangerous. He needed to address this with her. Better to take her to task sooner rather than later.

Farra seemed to settle somewhat once she had her boots on solid ground. She began to march away into the woods, but Ezra put a staying hand on her shoulder, turning her abruptly to face him. She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly and made her meet his eyes.

“Farra, listen to me. I know this is not easy, but both of us must be at our peak. I need you to get yourself in hand. No more freezin’. No more of this petty irritation,” he said. He tried to keep any scolding out of his voice, because this was deadly serious and he couldn’t take the risk that she would dismiss his words. “Clear?”

Farra’s cheeks flushed dark at that. Ezra was right, damn it. Her head wasn’t in the right place. He shouldn’t have had to tell her for her to realize it.

“This is the fringe, girl.” His earnest gaze was no-nonsense and sincere as it bored into her. “It is life or death out here. You are either present, here and now, or you are a casualty. Come on. Get it together. Say it. Clear.” He gave her one slight shake.

Her face flamed with shame as the full understanding of her slip filled her mind and pushed out all other thoughts. There was no room for false pride. She choked out the word, “Clear.”

“Well, that’s just fine, then. I trust you will do better from here on out,” Ezra replied and clapped her on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The walk under the mossy trees cooled Farra’s mood. After that lecture, Ezra had proceeded in blessed silence, knowing she needed the time to manage herself. Farra reviewed her behavior from the preceding drop and landing. Those were not the actions and attitude of someone who was dedicated to the job. Survival must be the rule and she resolved to keep straight.

The forest towered over them as they hiked. Scant light filtered through the canopy to reach the fern covered floor. Decayed fallen trunks crossed their path and the map had revealed several hills between their landing site and the dig. The ever-present dust flickered off and on in the few streams of light that did manage to make it to their level.

Farra slowed as they approached a thick barrier of vegetation. Then she stopped, tilting her head up to peer around at the ancient grove. The walls of leaves and tree trunks closed in on her, seeming to fold down over her head. It was so easy to let the threatening air of the moon freeze her in place, but she recalled her commitment to be present and did her best to throw off the oppressive feeling. Ezra stepped over a log and passed her, trudging forward into the thicket. Farra followed. 

The gloom of dusk fell as they came upon the edge of the mercenaries’ encampment. Ezra dropped to one knee and signaled Farra to cut her radio and halt. She did so and knelt as well. The close set foliage and a fresh treefall gave them cover, but they could see the area that opened up to the clearing. 

Ezra took off his pack and drew his Kinski. He motioned for Farra to do the same and to stay where she was. He indicated that he would make the perimeter sweep by pointing at his eyes and sketching a loop in the air with his finger. This was what they had discussed before they landed and Farra nodded to him. They had agreed on an emergency comm channel, too, but were running silent until they knew the lay of the land.

Through a gap in the leaves, Farra could see the outline of a lightweight automatic thrower on a stand. It stood in front of a large hole in the ground. She was not familiar with the machine, but from the portion she could see, it was spindly and matte black, set upon an incongruously thin metal tripod that came to rest on adjustable peg feet. The barrel was sleekly intimidating with vents along the end. No noise came from the encampment. Did the mercenaries only leave the automated weaponry? 

A few moments later, she spied Ezra coming back from the opposite direction. He donned his pack and signaled to head back the way they had come.  _ There must be more than just the one standing gun, then,  _ she thought. 

They retreated several meters into the thicket and Ezra turned his comm back on. “The situation is this: The mercenaries have left three portable, 360 degree motion triggered turrets, a dead man and one unfortunate, living soul behind. I cannot decipher the meaning behind the corpse. It is festooned in ritual gear, powdered pink and laid out at the edge of the clearing. He will be no trouble to us, so I say we pay him no mind.”

Farra was puzzled, too, but agreed with Ezra that he should continue his report. She made a “go on” gesture.

“The solitary guard is wearin’ an exclusion marker that keeps the throwers from shootin’ him. There is a path worn into the dirt from his perimeter sweeps. I checked the ground as I went and I saw no vibration detectors.''

“There’s only one person? That’s odd,” Farra said. 

“I agree, but the circumstances must not have allowed for more to be left behind. I’d be willin’ to bet they did not think anyone would come for the dig when you and Damon failed to arrive.” He drew his lips back from his teeth in a not-quite-grimace, thinking. He squinted, then met her eyes. “It was a private posting to the boards, correct?” 

Farra nodded. “Yes, from what I gathered, it was a limited information bulletin. Damon only got the details once he agreed to the job. We were placed under contract and the listing was automatically scrubbed.”

Ezra tsked, “Well, there it is. With no time to post again, they made this decision to leave a less than adequate cadre to watch the Lair.” He gestured back toward the site. “Now, I propose to knock the marker off our guard and let the automatic guns do their work, then disable them after the fact. We will stay low behind cover and take them at a distance.”

Farra nodded. “That may work, but it still doesn’t make sense why there are so few guards.”

“Who knows, Farra? Who even knows what they were doing out here in the first place? Take the luck. Let’s get back there and claim the prize,” Ezra said. 

“Can we do this?” Farra was full of concern. It simplified the situation if the mercs had only left one individual and a handful of automated weapons, but she didn’t trust that it was accurate. 

Ezra leaned in close and pressed his faceplate to hers. He took her by the shoulders and, emphasizing each word, said, “We can do this, Birdie.”

Farra tamped down her misgivings. “Alright. Let’s get on with it,” she said.

It was even darker after they finished their discussion and flood lights glared from the dig site. They could see the streaks of brightness through the trees. The illumination would make their approach more difficult, but they were prepared. Ezra was the better marksman, so he led the way back. 

The sentinel patrolled on the far edge of the clearing. He walked left, then right for a few steps, surveying what was visible at the edge of the lights’ spread. He turned and applied the same careful scrutiny to the center of the space, then repeated the action a few steps further along the perimeter.

Farra brought up the rear as they circled the site, looking for the optimum location to intercept the mercenary. They settled behind a fallen tree at the edge of the maximum effective distance for their rotary throwers. All Ezra had to do was knock out the guard’s exclusion marker and the turrets would do the rest. The heavy log would shield them from the hail of fire that would come afterward.

They waited for the mercenary to come into view. There was an opening in the underbrush that gave a usable line-of-sight at the level of the man’s chest, where the device hung from a cord around his neck. Farra crouched and kept her thrower at the ready, in case she needed to step in as back up. Ezra braced his wrists against the mossy bark, preparing to take his shot. His head was barely visible above their hiding place and the barrel of his gun was camouflaged by some branches he placed there.

The watchman made the turn, his head lamp flaring in the mist. The target appeared for a split second. One pull of the trigger and the electronic pendant was gone. Ezra ducked back behind the tree trunk as two of the guns roared, felling the mercenary in a hail of bolts. 

Afterwards, he and Farra made short work of knocking the turrets out one by one. The lightweight, portable frames made the job easy. Once a leg was shot out from underneath, they listed and fell, exposing the vulnerable internal components. Another bolt from the thrower, and the machine was dead. 

From the center of the dig site, they could see the camp was bare bones. The mercenaries must not have expected a serious attack. In addition to the campfire, dead men and general detritus, there was a tiny tent propped up in the sweet spot where the turrets would have provided the maximum protection. Best of all, the Queen’s Lair was fully excavated. The face of the dig was taller than Ezra and twice that distance across. The surface was covered with crusted outcroppings, one for each aurelac tuber. They were all exposed and ready to harvest. Ezra and Farra exchanged a look. This dig was laid out on a silver platter. 

Many sweaty, stress-filled hours later, they had two cases full of the largest, clearest hecaton grade gems either of them had ever seen. They would have had more, but Farra had cocked up several before hitting her stride with the scalpel and faze solution. As it was, the harvest was beyond their wildest expectations and they cleared the entire site. 

Light from the false dawn peeked through the woods and gave everything an eerie glow. For the second time since they started their work, Farra and Ezra took turns connecting packets of Pastors to their suits. Both were quiet as they consumed their food. 

The clearing was quiet, too. In the distance, there was a puffing, slurping noise. Ezra had explained that it was the organic blisters that spewed the toxic spores into the air. If not for those, the moon would have been an ideal place for settlement. There were few dangerous creatures, other than some small mammals and the humans who preyed on the land and the weather was consistently temperate, due to the level orbital spin axis. However, it was not destined to be settled. Only the most determined and foolhardy individuals would choose to eke out an existence here. 

They stowed their gear and attached one gem case to each of their bags, preparing for the long trek back to the pod. When they finished with the dig, they had dragged the mercenary’s body to the pit and shoveled the dirt over him. Though they left the pink man laid out where he was, Ezra told Farra that he didn’t feel right leaving the other body exposed when there was a ready-dug grave at hand. He had even taken a sturdy stick and marked the final resting place with the man’s helmet. As they walked away, a ray of light reflected off the goggle-like eyepiece and the incongruously cheerful stickers that dotted its surface. 

* * *

There was no chatter as they worked their way through the thick underbrush. Farra had wanted to stay at the site and rest through the morning hours, but Ezra had said it felt too much like tempting fate. The trek was long and arduous, and they were both close to exhaustion. However, it wasn’t the first time the two of them had called on reserves to stay alert for an extended period. Part of the problem was the lush greenery that overtook everything in such short order. It was almost like they hadn’t made a dent with the trail cutting they did on the way out. 

After dealing with a particularly dense area, they stopped to connect some gel packets and replenish themselves. Farra crunched her shoulders together. There had been an odd feeling there for the last stretch of the hike and she couldn’t shake it. They attached the containers to each others’ suits and continued on their way.

Farra was about to turn and mention her discomfort to Ezra when two dark, shaggy shapes leapt from the edges of the trail. In seconds, they had Ezra on the ground, beating him with blunt clubs. A grip like vise grasped her by the ankles and dragged her into the underbrush. She fumbled for her thrower, but her arms were quickly restrained behind her and bound. 

“Ezra!” she called, “Ezra! Help!” But there was no answer and she was carried away into the woods. 

Her captors did not communicate with her or each other during the walk to their camp. Farra only had glimpses of the shaggy, darkly colored rags and bindings of the man who had her slung over his shoulder. The moment she realized Ezra wasn’t right behind her, she activated the extraction beacon on her wrist. If he was alive, he would activate his, she knew. The loss of the entire extraction deposit would be more than worth it, if it worked. 

She tried to keep track of the turns they took or anything memorable that passed beneath her, but she lost track after only a short time. Her head felt full of the blood that rushed to it, making her dizzy and sweat ran into her eyes. Eventually, it was all Farra could do to keep from passing out.

After some time, the kidnappers stopped and dropped her roughly on the ground. She was facing away from the center of a wide clearing with bare dirt all around. Farra struggled to sit upright and was pushed back down, then they dragged her through a primitive airlock into a haphazard dugout type building. One of the men removed her helmet and placed it at the far end of the room. The walls were made of scraps of scavenged canvas, animal skins and other natural items. It was dark inside and she wasn’t able to make out many details.

Finally, Farra was pushed up against one side of the hut in a cross-legged, seated position. She knew she should be terrified of these people who had taken her, but all she felt was angry. She was going to escape and continue on with her life. The frozen fear of her last experience as a captive had shown her that there was no point to that sort of reaction and she was determined to get out of this. Fear would get her nowhere. Anger, now that was something she could work with.

She covertly explored her surroundings, moving her bound hands quietly, sliding her eyes left and right. Behind her was something bulky that was both hard and soft in different places. She instantly recognized the bottom of Ezra’s pack and the gem case that had been secured there. She tried to twist to see if her pack was nearby, but it was not.

Probing carefully, she tried to remember if there was anything useful in the case or near it on his pack. If the gem case was still attached to his pack, there might be a way to get to a knife or other useful object. Unfortunately, she couldn’t bend in a way that would let her access anything other than the case directly behind her and the edges were not sharp enough to cut the thick bindings on her wrists.

At that moment, the dark around her began to glow as three men and one child lit small electric torches. They had removed their helmets and heavy outer garments and the illumination hit their faces from below with an effect that made them appear monstrous. Farra was familiar with the trick, though, and was not taken aback by it. She sat quietly, waiting them out. Whatever they wanted would become clear soon, she was sure. While they put on this pageant, she was working the gem case open.

Their leader spoke. His voice was low and melodic with a sing-song quality, “There is no need to fear. You were blinded by the aurelac, but you were brought here for a different reason. We have lost our mother.” He nodded to the side of the room where the motionless, gray form of an obviously dead dark haired woman was placed. In the inferior light, she appeared to be laying in state with a delicate wire diadem arched over her closed eyes. The priest continued, his words becoming strident, “The currents have felt our loss and brought you here to us in our time of need. The rush is past and now it is time to rebuild.”

Farra kept quiet and pulled a gem out of the case. Her hip pockets were canted away from the view of the men gathered across the room from her. She tucked one gem away, then another. 

“We will be bonded in layers, anew. You will fulfill your ultimate purpose, to create life in this place. It is the only way for you to be redeemed. Living disconnected from the currents outside the balance has soiled you. You are unclean. We will salvage you and you will be reborn.” He made an elegant gesture to the boy next to him and said, “Play.”

All but one of the torches were extinguished and the boy with long, black hair and a sallow complexion started turning a crank on the side of a many-keyed instrument. The dreary sounds of an anemic pipe organ came from the cylinder.

While the priest lectured and the child performed, Farra stowed as many aurelac gems into her pockets as she could. Finally, the weird, dirge-like music stopped and she had taken all that would fit. She zipped the pockets closed with as little jostling as she could manage. Thankfully, her suit was a bit too big for her. If she had been able to afford better gear the bulges would have been more noticeable.

With the distraction of reclaiming her harvest finished, she took full stock of her situation. Three fully grown men, one child, slightly smaller than herself. From what the head honcho had said, they wanted her for a god-damned broodmare. And it appeared that her input would not be considered. She put her best winning smile on her face and said, “That was beautiful.” She nodded to the boy, “Beautiful. But I do not share your beliefs, friends. I have my own way that I am pulled by my own currents and I cannot stay.”

“I, Oruf, say you will. It is inevitable. You will be our new mother. The currents have spoken. Let us prepare you for the bonding.” He reached toward her and the other men did the same. 

Farra fought them, thinking the worst, but they just restrained her while securing her helmet over her head. Then they dragged her back outside and across the clearing to another dugout that was much smaller. There were two empty gathering baskets to one side, along with the clubs that the men had used to beat Ezra.  _ Kevva, Ezra. She hoped he wasn’t dead. _

The men pushed her into the tiny structure and pulled the door shut behind her. There was nothing resembling an airlock on this one. It was a single room about two meters in diameter. From outside she heard the big one, Oruf, say, “Don’t take off your helmet. You must be clear of pollution for the ritual.” And then she was alone, sealed in the tiny space. 

She listened carefully, trying to determine if they were all still outside. There was the scuffing noise of someone pacing around the hut. Each time the direction changed, a loud thump reverberated through the floor when the Sater hit the ground with something heavy. So they were armed. Screaming wouldn’t do any good. Appealing to the men would be a long shot. The cultists seemed of one mind on the matter of her becoming their “mother”, she thought. The idea filled her with disgust and she grimaced and shivered briefly with denial.

It was very dark in the small space, so she pressed her helmet against the wall to turn on her headlamp. Now she could see that the portion of the walls above ground was made out of thick, bowed wood that had been stripped of bark and moulded to an arch. There were concentric rings of the same arched branches criss-crossing laterally. All of these were bound together with more of the fibrous material that surrounded her wrists. It was more like a cage than a room. The opening that she had been shoved through was another wooden lattice. The entire prison was covered with the same canvas and hide that their living quarters were.

Farra bent her head to press her helmet again and turned off the light. She struggled with her bonds, which refused to loosen. If she couldn’t get out of them, maybe she could get her hands in front of her. She sat on the packed dirt floor and dropped her shoulders as low as possible. Then she tried to scoop her arms forward. They caught on the bulk of the gems in her hip pockets. Damn. Okay, maybe bending forward, then to the side. There...one elbow was past a pocket. Then, carefully...yes! Her other arm slipped past the bulge in her suit. After that, she was able to wiggle them both forward under her knees and over the soles of her boots. It was difficult and by the time she was done her joints felt sore and stretched, but at least her hands were in front of her again. 

After getting her bearings back, Farra listened closely and waited for the scuffing noises to reach the farthest point from the door. Then she got as much of a running start as she could and threw herself at it. The whole thing vibrated and dust puffed from the frame, filtering down ominously. But the door must have been well secured; it had not budged. The footsteps outside didn’t even pause. They just continued their measured pacing, followed by the telltale thump of the club on the ground. Whoever they were, whatever their obscure religion, they certainly had faith in the strength of the prison’s construction.

* * *

Ezra woke up with a terrible headache and his face mashed into the plexiglass of his helmet. 

_ FARRA!  _ The thought ripped through his mind. Then on the heels of that,  _ They took her! _

He flexed to sit up rapidly, prepared to attack anyone nearby. The instant flare of pain that accompanied his attempt convinced him to roll over to his back instead. Slowly, he inhaled. Some ribs were sprung, if not outright broken. It was agony, but there was no coughing fit, which meant that his filter continued to function. Good so far. He waited and listened to see if his motions would bring anyone out of the gloom. When no one came, he began taking inventory of his injuries.

The daylight had gone completely and he hurt all over. His back was a wall of pain. He lifted and rotated his arms one at a time. He flexed his hands. They checked out ok. Then he lifted a leg, bent it at the knee. Ok. Other leg, same thing, but this time there was a terrible stinging in his left thigh when he did. Not good. 

Ezra sat up gingerly, turning on his headlight at the same time. His faceplate was smeared with dirt on the outside and the imprint of his face on the inside. It blurred his vision considerably. Swiping his arm across the helmet didn’t help clear it. He had to be able to see if he was going to do anything. In one of his pockets he found a polishing cloth he had stowed at some point. It worked well enough that he could now see through a portion of the faceplate.

He probed the area around the sore spot on his thigh, looking for rips in his suit. If there was any evidence that he had been stabbed, or other wound, he couldn’t find it. There was no hole and his air continued to be sweet. Maybe he had been struck there, or fallen on a rock and bruised the bone. When he pressed on the painful spot, it hurt worse, but seemed intact from what he could tell. The real test would be standing up.

Ezra found a tree next to him that he thought would support his weight. He grasped the trunk, drawing himself up carefully. He was definitely hurting, but his legs could carry his weight. Farra was out there, probably in pain, probably scared. Who knew what those men wanted with her. He didn’t want to confront the obvious, but there it was, low hanging fruit for his imagination. What did all men want? Ezra felt anxiety burn deep in his chest. She was all alone. He had to get her back, at all costs. His breathing sped up and he forced himself through some calming exercises to avoid overloading his filter.

Once he was back under control, he looked around, hoping their attackers had left him something. Supplies from his pack, or even his thrower. Anything that would give him an advantage. They had taken his pack and Farra’s was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing left. However, given the fact that they had not killed him, he thought they may have been Sater. If that was the case, they would have no interest in that type of weapon. 

The ferns were thick, but the area where they had fought was flattened, so he started searching there. Ezra ignored the pain in his leg. He replayed the raid in his mind as he looked. He hadn’t been able to draw immediately, so the Kinski would have been in the holster. Then he remembered being close to firing on them, so it had been in his right hand and they had been facing…this way. He turned and searched the right side of the path, shining his light over the thick brush. He looked for any broken branches or rocks that were turned over. Finally, he caught a glint of metal. Kevva be praised, there it was. He would have a thrower and, crucially, the upper hand.

* * *

The trail wasn’t obvious, but the tracks of three men were not easy to cover. Ezra turned his concentration to the minute details of the forest. From the flattened area, there were three sets of tracks. One from Farra and himself that was paralleled by a set from the men who had attacked them. A third set of tracks led away in the opposite direction from where they had been heading before the attack. There was a pair of boot prints that was much deeper in the soft dirt than the other. 

_ They must have been carrying Farra, damn them. _ They had taken the one person he cared for. The only person who had made him feel like there might be a future outside of this hardscrabble existence. Someone he could see by his side, who met his fire, who made his heart beat again. The person he wanted to share his sorry life with. If she was gone...She couldn’t be. He would not be so easily deprived of his hopes.  _ Of his Farra. _ The proprietary thought felt so right. He had to get her back.

It took him a long time to trace the trail back to the camp, losing the tracks, backtracking, then picking them back up. His injured leg slowed him down, too, and it was difficult to know which direction to go. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of Farra. What her fate would be if he couldn’t get her back. No one deserved that. And how could he go on without her? He didn’t want to think about it. 

As he approached the encampment, Ezra turned off his lamp. The reflection of the light from the planet gave a dim glow to the surroundings. It was the Sater, just as he had thought. 

There were two people in the empty yard. One paced the perimeter of the camp which had a large covered dugout on one side, a thin line of smoke curled from the chimney in the calm air. The other man guarded a small hut, but there was no one stationed at the bigger building. If he had to lay odds, he would bet that Farra was in the one with the sentinel. 

Ezra waited and watched. No one else came out or circled the camp. The locking mechanism on the small structure was simple, but effective. It was a pole strung through interlocking loops of heavy twine and the bottom half was buried in the ground. All one would have to do to open the door would be to draw the post up and out. The guards both turned away from his hiding spot. He was ready to take his shot.

The Kinski cracked, shattering the perfect quiet. The man closest to him fell with a shout. The other one abandoned his post in front of the shelter and ran behind it. He called out, “Hie! Come defend! Stay low! They shot Heshir!”

A small figure, not a man, opened the airlock flaps, crouched low to the ground and circled the main dwelling. The child was wearing the same dark, ragged coverings as the men who had taken Farra. A large club rested in his hand. It was fitted with a blade along one side which sharpened to a curving point at the end.

The man who was hiding yelled again, this time to Ezra, “Outlander! Join us! The currents command you to not fight against us!”

Ezra ignored this proselytizing and squinted as the kid moved farther away. It looked like Sater were both hiding behind the tiny dugout. Maybe they hoped he wouldn’t shoot because of Farra. Maybe they were waiting for backup. Dammit, he didn’t have time!

Avoiding the emergency comm channel had been a necessity. The Sater might have picked it up, giving away part of his advantage. And now he didn’t have the time to channel check, so he fell back on the oldest form of distance communication. He bellowed, “Birdie!” He threw everything he had into his volume, causing his injured ribs to shriek, and hoped she could hear him, “Hit the deck! Now! Clear?!”

With not even a second’s delay, Ezra heard her scream, muffled and tiny, but unmistakable, “Clear!”

The instant he heard that beautiful sound, Ezra charged the tent, firing round after round through the flimsy draped coverings. He kept his shots above the level where Farra would lay and didn’t stop firing until his back was against the wall of the hut. 

He moved in an uneven duck-walk to the entrance, keeping his head below the top of the structure. Ezra’s legs burned with the effort and his injured thigh shook, threatening to give way. Just as he had the locking rod lifted halfway, a howling shadow rounded the corner at top speed. It was the child, his bladed cudgel raised to strike. 

Ezra shifted backward to avoid the blow and raised his Kinski to shoot when the door burst open, knocking the kid ass over teakettle. Farra had rushed the door and, with the lock partially removed, had been able to break the remaining two fiber loops. 

Farra recovered from her tumble and took in the scene quickly. Ezra, crouched off balance against the prison, his thrower at the ready, a grimace of pain twisting his face; the child, motionless on his back, his club thrown out of reach. She raced to Ezra and bent down to help him up, bracing under his left shoulder to keep his right arm free to shoot if he had to. 

“Come on! We have to get out of here!” she yelled at him, faceplate to faceplate, so he could hear her best. 

He nodded in reply, clumsily getting upright. Together again, they ran in stilted tandem back into the forbidding woods.

* * *

“There are two of them still out there, Ezra,” Farra panted. 

They had reconnected their comms and set rotating channels to avoid the Sater picking up too much of their conversation. The trail they were leaving with their headlong rush would be easy enough to follow, so staying completely offline didn’t matter any more. 

“Clear,” Ezra replied. His voice came through tinny and tight, and his responses were short. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No, just bruised. I’ll be fine. What about you? Can you make it?” she asked. 

“Yes. Keep moving,” Ezra said.

They went as fast as possible, the twists and turns in the darkness confusing Farra. She expected that they would have to stop and get their bearings, eventually. However, the most important thing at the moment was to get as far away from the Sater as they could. 

When they couldn’t run any farther, Farra and Ezra found a sizable wood fall that was made up of many trees and bushes. They crouched and scooted back into a thickly shielded indentation. Once they were surrounded by the branches, the darkness was complete. 

Farra took a moment to get herself together, then asked, “Where are you hurt?”

“It would be faster to explain where I am not injured, little bird,” he said, but hurried to add, “but I will be fine. There were no punctures. They left me damaged, but alive. I do not know why. Perhaps their fabulous currents required it. Regardless, we are getting off this cursed moon. Do you have the map?”

He was back to his lengthy speeches, which Farra took to mean that he would live. She said, “Yes, it’s in my document pocket, along with the compass. They wanted me for some weird “bonding” ceremony and only took away my knife and rock hammer. They threw my Kinski into the green, god damn them.” Farra punched the ground.

“I think we can get back to the pod from here,” Ezra said.

“But I activated the extraction beacon, Ezra! They will be here in less than two cycles,” Farra said. 

Her voice floating to him through the comm was eerie. He knew she was right there next to him, but he was unable to see her. His dreams of her were sometimes like this and he wanted to take her in his arms to prove to himself that she was really there. Unfortunately, it was not the time or the place. It wouldn’t be right to reach out to her now, as much as he wanted to. 

Ezra shook himself and replied, “In that time we may well be dead, Farra. My filter is mostly spent. I wager yours is, too. We do not have anything with us to extend their useful life. I have at least one rib that I am fairly certain is broken. It needs to be taped or it could puncture a lung. And those men are on our trail. I fear for your safety should the ruffians catch up to us.” He coughed a muted, constricted cough. Farra knew he must be holding himself as motionless as possible. “No. We cannot wait. We must get back to the pod.”   


She paused to consider his words and the way he said it. There was nothing else to go off of at the moment. No probing look to determine how sick or well he was. The finality in his statement, the breathy, clenched way he spoke convinced Farra that they could not afford to wait. She wouldn’t risk Ezra that way, or herself, for that matter. They would have to make a run for it. 

What she felt for this man was complicated, but he had come to get her. He could have left her and ran for the pod by himself. He could have been on the shuttle by now. Nevermind that he would have had to navigate by memory. Farra had no doubt he could have done it. He had viewed the map once for a few minutes before they left and had not referred to the paper since. After they were on their way, Farra had checked their bearing, but each time, Ezra was already headed in the correct direction. 

“Okay. Can you tell me where in the hell we are? I don’t want to turn the lights on until we absolutely have to,” she said.

Ezra’s breathing had evened out some with the rest, but it was terribly shallow. He said, “I am not completely confident, but I think we may be two klicks south of our position when we were so ignominiously victimized. If I am correct, that would put us two hours of strenuous hiking away from the pod.”

“Are you ready to look at the map? We need some landmarks, Ezra. It’s too dark to tell what is around here,” Farra said.

“I don’t need the map just now. The Sater camp was in that valley between two hills and we came down the east slope. If we are where I think we are, there should be another hill to the east of us now and the north and south are level. We can confirm that as soon as the light returns, but I don’t want to wait that long. Open that compass and point us east. We can head that way and if we crest a hill maybe there is a spot with enough visibility to see if we are headed in the right direction. Then we can check the map.”

Farra cupped her gloves around the small face of the compass and turned on her lamp briefly, praying it was hidden enough that it wouldn’t lead the Sater to them. The direction was clear. She made a mental note, shut off the light and turned toward the east. 

Getting up and moving again after the stop was difficult. Ezra’s muscles were locking up and Farra wasn’t much better. They had been going for two cycles straight with no rest and were running on adrenaline. Ezra leaned heavily on Farra for much of the time. Once they climbed to the top of the small mountain, they were both winded. The light returned slowly in the form of a false dawn. When they checked the coordinates and Ezra was proved correct, they pressed on down the hill. 

The two hours that he had estimated turned out to be closer to three because of their limitations, but they fought forward, one foot in front of the other. Their goal was within reach when they heard an unnatural rustling in the woods behind them. As exhausted as they were, the evidence of pursuit tapped an unknown reserve in them and they sprinted, shambling over the final kilometer to the landing site. 

Farra reached the pod door first and inserted the key. She input the door code and twisted the key. The hatch opened upward and a short staircase folded out. Ezra burst into the clearing, moving as fast as his injuries would allow.

“Go! Go! Get inside! They are on top of us!” he yelled. The feedback through the comm was earsplitting, but Farra didn’t obey him. Instead, she turned and used all her strength to help haul Ezra up the steps and into the pod. The hatch had nearly closed when the men appeared, headed straight for the pod. They threw their clubs at the opening, but they bounced off ineffectively and the pod finished sealing itself shut.

Farra braced against the wall and pushed Ezra to the pilot seat, pressing the starter into his hand. He levered himself into place and began the launch protocol. Deafening noise filled the cabin as the Sater pounded on the outside of the small craft. It sounded like they were trying to take off the plating with their clubs. 

“Hurry, Ezra!” Farra strapped herself into the other chair. The pod shook harder. This time it was the rumble of the engines, primed for take off. 

Ezra secured his restraints, grunting with the effort. “They had better clear out from this thing or get right with their god. The blow back is a bitch,” he said through clenched teeth. He punched the hand pads, launching the craft into orbit.

* * *

The seats clanked as they latched in the upright position for docking. The jerk brought Farra around from the semi-blackout of her launch sickness. Unfortunately, she had begun to admit that this was something that would never leave her. Everything appeared to be in it’s correct place, but Ezra was limp in his seat. 

Farra used the secondary control panel to input the final docking coordinates and settings needed to connect the pod to the main ship. Then she checked on her partner, shaking his shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, then opened right as the sequence finalized. Ezra groaned with the slight impact. 

He was in bad shape, but had not coughed up any blood. Hopefully that meant the broken rib, or ribs, hadn’t caused any additional internal injuries. When they got out of the pod, Farra had to help drag him over the threshold because his hurt leg refused to cooperate.

Farra sealed the hatch one-armed and eased him down to the deck. She took off her helmet first, ripped off her gloves, then removed Ezra’s helmet. Next, she reached for the pull tag on the shoulder zip of his suit. She needed to see to his injuries, but Ezra pulled her hand away and held it in his own.

“That will wait. We must have a serious palaver here, Farra.” Ezra gazed at her steadily, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He rushed on when she would have interrupted. “This venture has been a wash. No, more than a wash, a total loss. Not even one gem to our names, Birdie, and the extraction fee is forfeit. We have nothing to show for our partnership and we will have less than nothing when we get back to the Pug. But I need to ask you, and I need to know now, this moment, will you stay with me, regardless?” Tears gathered in his eyes, waiting for her reply. Even though he was certain he already knew the answer, he had to hear her say it. This was his heart laid bare. His blatant need naked in his expression and the grip of his gloved hand on hers.

Farra was shocked, but of course, he didn’t know. How could he? “Wait, no, Ezra,” she said, hesitating a moment too long.

The tears fell from his eyes and slowly rolled down his grizzled cheeks. His voice trembled as he replied, “I understand. little bird. Shoulda known someone as lovely as you wouldn’t want an old rock jumper like me, not after the wrongs I have done you. I will get you safely back to the Pug and after that, you will not see me again.” The fist clenching Ezra’s heart squeezed in a deathgrip, and he curled over a new pain. One he had never experienced before. His heart was breaking. Ezra closed his eyes, the better to see the blackness that was his life from this moment forward.

His words hit her and she realized he misunderstood what she meant. Farra took Ezra’s face between her hands and said, “No, no, look at me.” She gently wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “That’s not what I meant, Ezra. I saved your half of the gems. We’re rich!” 

Cradled like that between her soft palms, Ezra looked like a lost little kid. He peered up at her with every ounce of want and care he had for her. “But will you stay, Farra? Will you stay with me? Please?”

She grinned. It was the sun coming out from the storm clouds, a drink of water on a hot day and a homecoming all in one. “Yes, yes, yes! I am with you, Ezra! I’m not going anywhere.”

Farra leaned down and kissed him deeply, taking her time to show him everything she had decided over the last harrowing cycle. The decision that had become an absolute certainty the moment that she understood that he had come for her and left the moon thinking they were destitute. The fact that he had left without chasing the aurelac that had been his obsession for a large part of his life. That he had made it his priority to get out with the one, single thing he felt was more important to him than credits...Her.

* * *

Epilogue:

They lay side by side on a blanket on the sand, a softly radiant sun overhead and the sea all around. On Lao, the tiny individual islands of the exclusive resorts were secluded. Each one had only a few rental units. Farra and Ezra shared the island with some other couples, and a small poly group. However, those guests must have gone to take advantage of the amenities or back to their own bungalows, because it was just the two of them for the moment. 

The tufted trees waved in the breeze behind them. There were open blue skies with puffy white clouds and the water held colors she had thought only existed in her imagination. Everything here was so unlike any of the other places Farra had visited before. Those worlds had been grimy waystations, like the Pug, or manufacturing and processing facilities. Even the Green Moon had been similar in its aspect. Dark, dank, and borderline unliveable. Now, resting with all the beauty around her, Farra finally felt like she could let her guard down. The archipelago of Ngam was about as perfect a place as one could hope for. 

She raised up on one elbow and turned to Ezra, who was on his back with his arms bent above his head, eyes closed to the bright sunlight. The bruises were gone and the surgery scars were finally settling into something less grotesque. He had indeed had a broken rib and four others had been dislocated. 

Even though he had been properly taped and they took every precaution, one of the sharp edges had caused a rupture in his diaphragm. Thankfully, the extraction team had met them soon after they left and used every tool at their disposal to stabilize him until they got to a full medical facility. He had pulled through, but it had been a near thing. He had come out of the ordeal full of stabilizing clips, weak and wasted. The doctor’s advice had been to take it easy once he completed the rehab cycles.

It had been up to her to cash out a few of their gems to pay the medical deposits and clear up the remaining debt they had accrued. In the cycles that followed, Farra found that she wasn’t made for sitting quietly next to a sickbed. Though she would spend an hour here or there with him and read to him when he asked, she simply could not bring herself to stay constantly by his side. Ezra seemed to understand that, even in his drugged haze. So she went out. 

She rented a living space for them in a decent neighborhood and decorated it with offbeat furniture and warmly colored planters full of differently hued little plants. She shopped for a new wardrobe for her and a few items for him. Most of his clothing would have to wait until he was out of medical, but he could come home to a cozy robe and some slippers. She bought him soft loungewear, socks, and the basics.

Slowly it dawned on Farra that she was building them a life. A life that was so different without the millstone of poverty hanging around her neck. When she visited Ezra she told him all about her day; each thing she brought home, the new outfits she had, and the plants. She named them and told Ezra stories about silly, imagined houseplant rivalries. When he was lucid enough, he laughed with her and when he was finally clear of the drugs and most of the pain, he had thanked her. 

Ezra had never considered settling down before. It was always one more jump, one more harvest, one more... But now, with Farra by his side, he wanted to have a base to reach out from. Especially if it was her home. 

With that in mind, he had been hesitant to broach the subject of continuing their journeys. Farra had put so much time, energy and thought into her small apartment. The space was a sanctuary and a balm for him, too. She had friends in the neighborhood, a community and a place to call home. He didn’t want her to think they wouldn’t come back.

“Would you be amenable to an excursion away from this lovely abode?” he had asked her, immediately adding, “A temporary peregrination, I assure you. It is simply that I cannot remain cooped up so, after such a long and tedious recovery.”

Farra had locked her hands behind his neck, gazed into his beautiful, serious brown eyes and said, “Anywhere but Bakhroma Green.”

* * *

They had agreed on Lao, booked the transport and been on their way. Their thatched bungalow didn’t look like much on the outside, but it was richly appointed. The last feature that had influenced their choice was the underwater tube system that spanned most of the planet’s seas. 

One could swim or take a transport down, under the ocean and then stroll through clear tunnels to observe all the sea life that grew and swam around them. The large, open domes housed businesses geared to relaxation and entertainment, like spas, casinos and restaurants that rivaled the finest in the four systems. The stage shows were over the top and diverting. Farra’s favorite was the cirque with performers who imitated marine life with their silks, rings and acrobatics. It was a bonafide adventure, albeit a tame one, but a bit of excitement was something neither of them was willing to give up.

Although the resort had everything they could want for recreation, they eventually tired of the constant, fabricated excitement. After several days of exploration and decadence, even the shimmering, multi-colored schools of fronded fish weren’t enough to entice them off the beach and into the water. 

Farra took one more long look at Ezra, jealous that he had no need for the UV blocking gel she had to slather on constantly. She leaned over to kiss him and felt him smile against her lips. Throwing her leg across him, she pinned him to the blanket. Farra held his arms down and kissed him harder, laughing as she did so.

Ezra fought back playfully and let her win, ending up sprawled underneath her, breathing heavily. The feel of a barely clothed woman writhing in his arms had done more than make him breath hard and now she straddled him. Unconsciously, or maybe not so unconsciously, he lifted his hips against her. Farra responded immediately, grinding down on him. 

His eyes opened wide. “Here?” he asked her.

A wicked grin spread across Farra’s face. “Why not?” 

“Someone could see us,” Ezra hissed and halfheartedly tried to dislodge her. She held firm and wriggled even more seductively. 

Farra leaned down to whisper in his ear, “So what? I watched when you took care of yourself that night on the shuttle.” Her voice became husky with need. “I wanted you so badly, then.” 

She took his earlobe between her teeth and nibbled. Then kissed him in the soft place behind his ear, in the hollow where his dark, wavy hairline ended. She nuzzled and kissed her way down his throat, enjoying the slightly salty taste of his sun-warmed skin. 

Ezra tilted his head back, baring more of his neck to her. The feeling and the thought of her voyeurism made him moan. It wasn’t his custom to make love in the open when there was a comfortable bed less than a hundred meters away. However, if this was what Farra wanted, he decided he could make an exception. 

He threaded the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of her head. Then he slowly, inexorably drew her up to meet his mouth with her lips. With her pressed to him without any space, he was able to surreptitiously clasp her breast with his other hand. He rubbed the edge of his thumb back and forth over her brightly colored halter top, across her nipple. It pebbled under his attention and Farra inhaled on a high pitched noise. 

Gently biting at her lips, Ezra whispered, “Let them watch, then.”

The skimpy bathing suit that Farra wore left little to the imagination and it was easy to pull a bit to the side so that she could slide her wet pussy lips along his skin. She wasn’t actually trying to get caught, so she did her best to conceal her movements. Farra glanced around and giggled at the thought of what they were doing. The coast was still clear. 

With one last look around, Ezra freed himself from the top of his swim trunks. He positioned Farra above his rock hard cock and guided himself inside of her. She was already drenched for him, so there was no resistance, just the tight, heated envelopment of her. It took all of his willpower to keep from thrusting up into her right then and there. 

Farra sat up halfway when Ezra pushed her down onto his manhood. The stretch was wonderful and she took him all the in until he bottomed out. Still keeping an eye out, she began to rock back and forth on him. Without being able to make overt moves on him, she resorted to rolling her hips and pressing down onto him.  She rolled forward again and rubbed her clit on him, finding the rhythm that made her see stars. This time he lifted his hips imperceptibly to help with the angle. Ezra held her by the hips and watched as she sought out her own pleasure above him. The slow pace was torture. 

In a low voice, pitched just for her ears, he said, “Yes, Farra, please. Fuck me, give me that good pussy of yours. Yes, ah, get yourself nice and hot and ready to come. I want to feel you, yes,” she clenched around him, “Mm, just like that.” He went on for another few minutes, praising her, telling her how deliciously filthy she was for getting him like this all out in the open.  When he felt himself building to his release, he wanted to make sure she was with him when he went over the edge. In his seductively gruff, commanding tone, he punctuated each word with a little extra push, “I. Want. You. To. Come. On. My. Cock. Now!” he ordered her, pressing her down hard as he jerked up into her with the start of his climax. 

Farra had been so close to coming for so long that Ezra’s design worked and she joined him in ecstasy. The combined force of their orgasm whited out the world for them both. If anyone was around, neither of them would have given a damn. It was almost impossible for Farra and Ezra to keep quiet as they rode out the waves in small gyrations, the added friction of their closeness extending their pleasure in each other. 

When they could finally think again, Farra was slumped with an arm over Ezra’s shoulder, loose limbed and looking totally debauched. He tucked his now limp member back into his bottoms and rearranged Farra so that she was laying half on and half off of his body. She fitted her head to his chest and cuddled him close. The soft breeze cooled their heated skin. He noticed that their positions were the exact reverse of the momentous conclusion to that first encounter. So much had changed since that cycle, and all of it for the better.  Ezra ran his fingers through Farra’s hair and lifted a few strands to watch them glitter as they fell. She had become what he had hoped for: his partner, lover and friend, and he knew she felt the same. This was paradise, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through this! I had a lot of fun living with Ezra and Farra in the world of Prospect and I hope you did, too!


End file.
